The warm mama in the warm car

I’m about to pick up my daughter from a four-day field trip that she took with the rest of her 4th grade class. There were tears before she left and so I tried to not share my own stories of camp because they are not exactly uplifting – but more filled with homesickness, the memory that still fills me with that hollow feeling  – a grasping and a gasping, like no amount of breath will ever fill you. I remember having to go away at that age because, again, some parents and teachers thought it would be good for our collective 9-year old self esteem. Like my own daughter, Idon’t think I was quite ready for such a long time from home, so I cried before I left, too. I remember everyone else looking like they were having so much fun. I remember, at...

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